


Messy

by jawnwatson



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Blowjobs, Established Relationship, Is putting 'blowjobs' as a tag redundant when you've already put 'oral sex'?, M/M, Oral Sex, Sort of fluffy but not really mostly just sex, meep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-02
Updated: 2012-09-02
Packaged: 2017-11-13 09:31:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/502028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jawnwatson/pseuds/jawnwatson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock Holmes is nothing but trouble.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Messy

**Author's Note:**

> Written for this prompt: _John hasn't buzzed a new patient in for ages. Sarah comes into John's clinic-room to check on him. Cue Sarah holding a conversation with John, who is not only wide awake, but more than a little distracted (in the best possible way!) by a mischievous Sherlock hidden under his desk._
> 
> _I absolutely cannot decide whether I want her to realize what's going on or not, so the ending's totally up to you :D_

The first time John clapped eyes on Sherlock Holmes, he knew the man was trouble. He knew it in the same way he knew that the earth goes ‘round the sun, and the same way he knew he’d never be able to live without the lanky git again.

So while John knows Sherlock is nothing but trouble, he never thought that Sherlock’s impish tendencies would manifest them in quite the way that they do: of course, he should have known the moment they decided to upgrade from ‘flat mates’ to ‘lovers’ that life with Sherlock Holmes would never be what he expected.

 

+

 

John is sitting at his desk in the surgery, filling out prescriptions, when there’s a tap at the window. It’s a first story building, so it’s not like reaching the window is a difficult task, but he still jumps, gaze flying upwards. 

With his front pressed to the pane and the biggest shit-eating grin on his face, Sherlock stands, eyes bright and focused. John is already up and crossing the small room to open the window before he even realizes it, and Sherlock climbs in gracefully.

“Sherlock,” John starts, eyeing the man warily. “I’m not actually sure what you’re doing, but you really need to leave. If Sarah sees you, she’ll kill me. Quite literally, I’m afraid. She’s still not happy about me leaving for that case last week, and -” John stops, mid-sentence. Sherlock is shaking his head at him, smiling demurely. 

“Oh, John. Stop worrying. We’ll just have to make sure she doesn’t see me, hmm?” 

 

+

 

That’s how John ends up sitting at his desk, trying desperately to concentrate on the papers before him, while Sherlock kneels in the space between his legs, dark head bowed over his cock. It’s all he can do not to let his head fall against the desk: Sherlock has been simply breathing on him since he crawled under the stainless steel thing that John does his paperwork on and fished John out of his trousers ten minutes ago without so much as a warning, and John is so hard he could probably dig a hole to China with the frankly _spectacular_ erection he’s sporting. 

“Sherlock,” John growls under his breath, glaring down at the man, “quit teasing, would you? I’ve things to do today.” 

If he sounds a little brusque, John thinks Sherlock will forgive him.

 

+

 

It takes Sherlock five more minutes to get bored of simply breathing on him, and then the infuriating man starts giving little licks all over John’s cock. They’re entirely random and maddening, but John is so glad for any kind of stimulation that he doesn’t complain.

That is, he doesn’t complain until Sarah opens the door and slides in, looking more than a little peeved.

John’s first thought is that she somehow knows about the man kneeling between his legs and attempting to redirect all of the blood in his body to his groin. Quickly, however, it becomes obvious she doesn’t know, because Sarah just keeps on talking and John realizes he should probably be listening instead of focusing on not shoving his erection right into Sherlock’s pretty, _pretty_ mouth - 

“Could you repeat that?” John mumbles finally, and Sarah sighs, but acquiesces. 

“You’ve not been buzzing in any patients again. I’ve mostly taken care of the backlog, but Mrs. Humphries is coming in for a consultation in a few minutes, and I need to leave. You can handle one patient, can’t you?” She sounds upset. John tries to feel bad about it, but really, it’s hard to feel bad about anything right at that moment in time, so he just nods contritely and tries not gasp when Sherlock starts suckling on the head of his cock like it’s the most delicious thing he’s ever tasted.

Sarah just sighs. “Goodnight, John.” She murmurs, and she’s gone before he can respond, door closing behind her. 

“Sherlock!” John whispers fiercely, “You need to stop. I can’t talk to a patient with out down there, doing that!” 

Sherlock pulls off of John slowly, and grins. It reminds John of a shark. “You had no trouble talking to Sarah,” he hums, and John can’t think of anything to say to that, so he just fumes silently while Sherlock wraps a hand around the base of his shaft and squeezes.

It’s enough to make him gasp out, louder than any noise before, and he has to clap a hand over his mouth momentarily to muffle the sound when he hears a knock at his door.

“Come in,” John calls, breathing a sigh of relief when his voice sounds somewhat normal. Sherlock is being suspiciously still at the moment, but John crosses his fingers and hopes that the man will behave for the ten minutes it will take to talk to Mrs. Humphries, a little old lady in her late seventies with a hip problem.

She reminds him a lot of Mrs. Hudson, actually, and that’s really not what John should be thinking about, because Sherlock is doing the breathing thing again and it takes all of John’s control to smile at Mrs. Humphries as she sits in the seat on the other side of his desk.

‘Good afternoon, Mrs. Humphries,’ is what John means to say. Really, it is. But Sherlock chooses the moment his mouth opens to swallow down to the root, his nose mashed so far against John’s groin that he’s afraid for an instant that the git is going to get absorbed right into John’s skin. As it is, he doesn’t: Sherlock just continues on his merry path of destruction, and John splutters for a moment before finally getting on with the consultation.

While he advises the little old lady on the best types of painkillers for her aching hip, Sherlock continues sucking, and the pressure is perfect; it’s more than a little sloppy but Sherlock’s mouth is all wet heat and John is trying to get the woman out of his office as quickly as possible so he can properly enjoy what’s going down under the desk, but the little old lady is decidedly not cooperating. 

 

+

 

It takes fifteen minutes for her to finally leave, and John’s not sure how he’s managed to hold off for so long. The moment the door closes behind her, however, his hand is gripping onto Sherlock’s hair and stilling his movements, holding his in place, poised over John’s cock, pretty as a picture.

“I don’t know what you thought you were doing,” he’s almost growling, his voice has gone so deep, but it doesn’t matter, not really, “but now you’re going to sit there and let me finish, then we’re going to go home and have a nice, long conversation about trying to give me an aneurysm. Understood?” 

Sherlock nods frantically, and John sighs and finally, _finally_ lets himself thrust forward into the willing mouth, hand still keeping Sherlock still until he finally comes, toes curling and head falling against his chair. He’s vaguely aware of Sherlock tucking him back in his pants and zipping him up, then crawling out from under his desk, but he can’t be buggered to move. 

John sits in silence for a moment, eyes closed, just sort of rolling around in post-orgasmic bliss. It’s nice, even if he would rather be in a bed, and he resolves to thank Sherlock once he’s done telling him off. It’s not like John yelling at him will stop the crazy man anyway.

John cracks an eye open, to find Sherlock sitting on his desk, looking incredibly smug. They stare at each other for a moment, and then John is bursting into helpless peals of laughter, and after a moment of shock, Sherlock follows.

 

+

 

Sherlock Holmes is nothing but trouble. More than that, John knows for a fact that he’s dangerous, too.

Good thing John’s always loved danger.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm nervous about posting this unbeta'd, but here you go, folks. The first bit of porn I've written and posted. Please be kind to my tender soul.
> 
> On another note, thank you guys for being so lovely to me thus far. I really appreciate all the support and nice comments. I'm working on the next chapter of 'John Watson and Other Deadly Things', I promise! It's slow going. My muse is very fickle. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this.


End file.
